The raw beauty of this year's autumnal display squeezes the air out of my lungs to prepare for the inhalation of the vibrancy of the next breath-taking display.
Hypnotized and spellbound by the crimsons, goldens, purples, brazen oranges and firey yellows, I stay still. Struck by the stark newness of the trees' ornamentation, a rumbling of nostalgia washes over me.
Humbled by the ancient, predictable yet always glorious dance.
Hypnotized and spellbound by the crimsons, goldens, purples, brazen oranges and firey yellows, I stay still. Struck by the stark newness of the trees' ornamentation, a rumbling of nostalgia washes over me.
Humbled by the ancient, predictable yet always glorious dance.
(Thank you, Lindsey, for frequently reminding me to take a look up at the sky.)
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